The Secret Emperor
by Mikel Midnight
Summary: The All-Star Legion of America Captain Tootsie, Volto, Bazooka, Thom McAn, & others from 40’s comic ads are enmeshed in political maneuvering and find their lives taking a dark turn; the plot is based on an uncompleted Dashiell Hammett novel.
1. Introduction

This team was organised (though not named) by Roy Thomas in the pages of _All-Star Companion_ Volume Two, along with a group illustration by Shane Foley. All the characters originally appeared in one-page advertising strips in the pages of _All-Star Comics_ as well as other publications.

Captain Tootsie and his Secret Legion were used to advertise Tootsie Rolls.  
Volto was used to advertise Grape Nuts.  
'U.S.' Royal was used to advertise bicycle tires made by the United States Rubber Company.  
R.C. was used to advertise R.C. Cola.  
Thom McAn was used to advertise Thom McAn shoes.  
Bazooka was used to advertise Bazooka bubble gum.  
Old Nick was used to advertise Old Nick candy bars

Not included are R.C.'s younger sidekick Quickie, and Bit-O-Honey from the same company that produced Old Nick (used to advertise Bit-O-Honey candy bars); neither were in Shane Foley's group illustration, and I felt neither would have contributed much to the team dynamic.

My representation of R.C. is selectively inaccurate. He and Quickie were generic adventurers, who only in one episode were portrayed wearing baseball uniforms, but I felt it made R.C. stand out and gave him an identifiable gimmick.

"The Secret Emperor" is the title of a 1925 unwritten novel by Dashiell Hammett; this storyline hews relatively closely to his character descriptions and outline; the characteristics intended for Hammet's alter ego Elfinstone have been divided amongst the All-Star Legion members.


	2. The Continental Options

The All-Star Legion of America in "The Continental Options"  
By Mikel Midnight (suggested by a plot from Dashiell Hammett)

'Old Nick' Talbert looks around the room at the colorfully attired men and boys who had assembled at his call. "I thank you all for coming to Washington on such short notice," he says. "I usually prefer to visit your Madison Avenue headquarters, but ... "

Captain Tootsie narrows his deep-set copper eyes. "We'd never be ones to turn down a call from the All-Star Legion of America's government liaison," he exclaims. "Hootin' zoots, you're one of our founding members."

'U.S.' Royal looks thoughtful. "And I can assure you as a United States deputy, I can understand the importance of confidentiality."

Old Nick strokes his grey beard. "I know you can be trusted, Royal, as can all the rest. This is a very sensitive matter."

R.C. leans back against a table, his powerful flat muscles tensing slightly despite the apparent repose. He releases a baseball into the air and begins to bounce it upwards against his ever-present bat in a repetitious movement. "Sensitive? Is this even something that our younger members should be a part of?"

"Awwww," Thom McAn waves his hand dismissively, "Bazooka and I can handle it." The other boy nods affirmatively, bony mouth and chin working a piece of chewing gum vigorously.

H, the extradimensional imp which accompanies the team, says " ."

"I agree," says Volto. Tall and lean to the point of gauntness, straight nose like a knife, the Martian sweeps his eyes over his teammates. "In my time on Earth I have seen much courage from its younger citizens, and I am not one to discount their heroism."

Old Nick nods, "Very well then. Let me tell you about General Dolliard and his troubles." He inhales deeply, letting the air out in an extended breath as he gathers his thoughts, and then temples his fingertips under his chin. "Dolliard is very much in love with his wife, Helene, whom he married in Paris during the war. He learned afterward, that she was a suspected traitor and was on a French list of war criminals to be shot. He set about collecting evidence to clear her." He sighs again. "He had these papers in a Baltimore bank under an alias ... and those papers have since been removed. Possibly by someone with a grudge against the General, possibly by someone with a grudge against his wife."

"Pretty different from the usual case we set out to solve," Captain Tootsie says thoughtfully. "You think someone is out to blackmail the General?"

Old Nick does not reply, but opens a notebook pad which had been resting on the left-hand side of his desk. He tears out a sheet, and hands it to the Captain. "I don't know, Captain. That's part of what I need the Legion to discover," he says.

Captain Tootsie glances down at the sheet which contains the Baltimore addresses for General Dolliard's residence as well as his bank information. He nods silently and tucks the paper into a compartment in the lining of his belt. "We're at America's service."

Later, a golden bubble descends over the estate belonging to General Dolliard. As it hits the ground it explodes silently, revealing the membership of the All-Star Legion of America. Volto nods to his compatriots, "The front door, as is our custom?"

Captain Tootsie smiles, "Of course." They walk up the staircase and Bazooka runs ahead of the rest of the group, "I'll do it," knocking at the door in a staccato 'shave and a haircut, two bits.' Captain Tootsie tousles his hair as he catches up, and the door opens to reveal a square-featured man past middle-age, heavy and of medium height. "General Dolliard?"

The man nods, "I am he. I recognise you, of course, Captain ... and the rest of your retinue. Please, come in. How can I help you?"

"Darling? Who is it?" As the team enters they see a well-dressed woman enter the room, her voice possessing a slavic lilt. She leans up to kiss Dolliard on the cheek, and glances at the Legion, an alarmed expression fleeting across her face.

Dolliard smiles, "These are some of our American mysterymen, Helene. They ... " She interrupts him, "I'm sure it's all very exciting, darling, but I do have errands to run." She leans up to kiss him, and sashays off out of the study.

As she leaves, 'U.S.' Royal whispers to R.C., "Cover me." His teammate nods, stepping forward to fill the space occupied by his teammate and bouncing a baseball upwards against his bat in a repetitious movement. He says, "General, we're here to discuss some blackmail attempts regarding your wife."

Dolliard turns pale. "You intruded into my personal sphere ... for that?" He grips his hands into fists. "You have no right ... I think you should all leave. Now."

The Legionnaires look at one another, bemused. Thom McAn says, "Sir, we only came here to help." H says, " ."

"I said, leave." Dolliard speaks with barely repressed fury. Volto raises his hands in an appeasing gesture. "We meant no intrusion. We will be on our way."

Captain Tootsie nods. "If you ever need the Legion's help, you know where to find us." He and the others depart through the door.

Outside, 'U.S.' Royal mounts his bicycle, just as he sees Helene Dolliard departing the grounds in a sporty racer. She spies him in her rear-view mirror and tears out of the driveway, tires spraying gravel. 'U.S.' Royal activates the bicycle's jet propulsion units and takes off after her. The pair run through a heated chase, the bicycle easily keeping pace with the automobile, until finally she pulls off into a turnout. He circles around, finally coming to a stop in front of her car, and dismounts.

She shakily lights up a cigarette in a long holder as he approaches, and rolls down the car door window. "Royal," she says.

He leans against the car door, his clean hard mouth turned into a frown. "Mady Brefina. I didn't expect to see you again, and certainly not here. Certainly not married to an American general ... and certainly not that one in particular. Does he know about the other husband, back in Europe? Does he know what happened to his brother, Don?"

Helene Dolliard takes a long inhalation of smoke, and attempts to calm her nerves. "No. And you're not going to tell him."

"I ought to. I worked with Don Dolliard, and he died so that I might get out of Austria alive with our information ... and I know you were the cause of that." 'U.S.' Royal looks out into the horizon. "If I had been in France at the time you married Dolliard, I'd have prevented it. Does he know you were a secret agent of Teutonica during the war? Does he know you're guilty of everything you've been accused of, all the crimes of which he's been trying to clear your name?"

She looks up at him. "No. Please don't tell him, Royal." Her voice cracks, "I know I did things I shouldn't have. I was just trying to survive. You don't know what it was like, especially being a woman during that time ... "

'U.S.' Royal waves his hand dismissively. "Save it, sister. Not everyone made the choices you did. I'm not interested in your sob stories." He sighs heavily, and turns around, leaning with one hand on the top of the car door and with the other hand close to her face, index finger pointed accusingly. "Lucky for you, I'm also not interested in making Dolliard's life miserable. The All-Star Legion of America have bigger fish to fry. I'll keep your secret, for now. But if he discovers your guilt through some other means, I'm not going to protect you, either."

She nods, chewing on her lower lip nervously. "Thank you."

He stands up, and remounts his bicycle, preparing to jet back to the house. "Now get out of here, I'm sick of looking at you."

On his return, he is greeted by questioning stares. "Sorry, I saw what looked like a lead, turned out to be nothing. What's the plan?"

"We are going to transport to the fiduciary establishment where General Dolliard had entrusted his research materials," says Volto as he begins to generate a gold sphere from a hidden compartment in his belt buckle. "That's a plan," 'U.S.' Royal responds in a resigned tone, and stands with the others as the team is encased within the sphere.

Translucent from the interior as it is opaque from the exterior, Captain Tootsie guides Volto as the latter acts as pilot for the Martian transport craft. Following the instructions Old Nick had given them, they float their way downtown to Baltimore's Continental Options Bank. They land outside the bank doors, drawing a small crowd of attention as the bubble explodes again, revealing the team to view.

R.C. glances cynically at the bank doors. ""Let's just hope your reception is better than it was at the last door we knocked on."

As they enter the building. they hear murmurs around them from the employees and customers, unused to seeing mysterymen so far from the usual New York or Washington, DC haunts. The legionnaires look for what appears to be the main service desk, and approach the gentleman behind the counter. He rises to his feet. "Peter Collinson at your service," he says. "How can I assist the famous Captain Tootsie?"

Captain Tootsie extends a hand, "You can assist the entire All-Star Legion of America, actually," he says with a broad smile. "We're investigating a theft from a security box you had here recently, under the name of Dolliard?"

At those words, one of the bank tellers runs from his counter and bolts for the door. He is under average height, fancily dressed with his work jacket corset-tight around his waist and padded high and sharp in the shoulders. His hair, mustache, and goatee are black and greased to a shine. Collinson blinks, "Travers! Anthony Travers! What the heck?"

The legionnaires take off after the clerk, pursuing him outdoors. They hit the street and look around, only to find he's disappeared. Bazooka spies a flicker of cloth in an alley, "There he is!" Volto grins, "Remember, my right hand attracts ... " He gestures towards the figure, but is too late as Travers disappears from sight.

R.C. cracks his knuckles, "Something's goin' on."

Captain Tootsie beckons with his arm, "Come on, let's go check it out."

As the All-Star Legion of America reaches the head of the alleyway, they are greeted by a pair of sinister-looking figures. Captain Tootsie gasps, "Hootin' zoots! It's Dr. Narsty! Don't tell me you're mixed up in this Dolliard business?"

The other figure nods, "Yes indeed, as am I, Dr. Power. I have been looking forward to this meeting ever since young Thom McAn defeated my bulletproof men."

Thom McAn thumbs his nose at the mad scientist, "Oh yeah? and I'll defeat anything else you come up with, too."

"Heh heh heh," Dr. Narsty cackles, "We've pooled our resources this time. Only fair, after all." He steps back, and a hideous figure shambles forward, eight feet in height, with flowing black hair, glowing eyes, and translucent yellowish skin which barely disguises the workings of the vessels and muscles underneath. The figure parts its black lips to reveal white teeth, "Aeaea!"

Volto glances at his teammates, "Remember, my left hand repels ... " Again he gestures, and the monster finds itself propelled backwards down the alleyway, only to catch a grip on the wall and cease its journey. With surprising speed it clambers forwards, resisting the anti-magnetic force, and soon is close enough to slam a massive fist into the Martian, knocking him down.

Bazooka's mouth drops open, "I didn't think that was possible ... "

"That's why we're a team," says Captain Tootsie, as he bites down on one of the chocolaty candies which give him an added boost of energy.

Thom McAn calls to his impish companion, "H, I need my bazooka shoes!"

H says, " " as a pair of futuristic footwear appear on the boy's feet.

R.C. tosses a baseball into the air and slams his bat at it, the ball careening into the monster's face, forcing it back a step. 'U.S.' Royal zips back into the street to pick up momentum, and returns into the alley, slamming his bicycle into their opponent at jet speed.

"Aeaea," the monster roars, knocking the deputy aside.

"Come on Thom, it's time to get up close and personal, let's show 'em how it's done." Captain Tootsie leaps in with Thom McAn following close behind, his bazooka shoes firing him forward like a savate kick.

The monster staggers under the rocketing force of Thom McAn's attack, and Captain Tootsie wrestles it down, taking advantage of his off-centeredness.

As Thom McAn soars around for another strike, the monster displays an evil cunning, and manages to flip Captain Tootsie over so the bazooka shoes strike the legionnaire full force. "What? Captain, I ... " the boy says, appalled as the man unghs in pain. The monster's swift hands reach out and grab hold of Thom McAn's throat in his distracted state, slamming the pair down to the ground and raising its fists for a killing blow.

The curled hands swoop down, only to be arrested at the last moment by a wire cord, lassoed around them at the wrists. The legionnaires look up to see, poised on an alleyway fire escape, a young woman with an oval face, coarse wavy locks falling below her shoulders, black against milk-pale skin. She is tall and voluptuous yet slenderly perfect in body, wearing a red top and blue skirt, and knee-length yellow boots. Around her waist is a broad yellow belt in two bands which form an "MW" design in her middle. She watches her surroundings carefully, noting all from gray-green eyes beneath black arcs of eyebrows, as beautiful as an Egyptian princess. "Could you cease and desist? I thought creatures like you only existed in the movies. I have nothing against Basil Karlo, but that is no excuse for such poor behavior."

R.C. steps in, taking advantage of the monster's confusion to club it on the side of the head with his baseball bat. The mystery woman pulls back hard on her wire cord at the same moment, and the monster stumbles backwards. "Aeaea," it groans as Captain Tootsie and Thom McAn lend their powers to the assault, but as the monster tumbles it yanks the newcomer off her feet and, with a powerful swing, tosses her high into the air.

Bazooka joins the action, quickly blowing a chewing gum bubble that transports him through the air. He maneuvers to the woman, catching her in his arms before she hits the ground. "I've got you, miss," he says around the bubble. She blinks, bemused, and the bubble slowly lowers them to earth when the young man says, "Akoozab!"

Volto shakes his head to clear it, and joins his companions. "Boys, let's give this creature a boost," he says, beckoning Thom McAn and Bazooka to him, and they nod as he explains his plan. Bazooka starts another bubble, but before he takes off he hands the wad to Thom McAn. Using the speed of his bazooka shoes, he races by the monster and crams the wad into its mouth. "Aeae-ulp!" the monster says, as it starts to float into the air. Volto maneuvers underneath it, his left arm extended to rocket their opponent into the sky.

Volto winks, "Remember, my right hand attracts." As the monster rises into the skyline, Bazooka shouts, "Akoozab!" The bubble pops, and Volto's power of magnetic attraction increases its downward velocity until it slams into the concrete of the street.

'U.S.' Royal's bicycle circles around Dr. Narsty and Dr. Power, cutting off their escape. "I think it's time for a malpractice settlement against our two doctors," he says as a pair of jet-propelled fist slams into them.

Captain Tootsie grins, "Good work, Legion. And to you, ma'am, I don't think we could have defeated the creature without your help."

"My name's Miss Wonderly," she addresses them in a throaty voice. "I wanted to see some real life mystery men. Got more than I bargained for, I guess." She grins, "Without the bubble boy here, I'd have made almost as much a dent as the creature."

"You've certainly proven yourself a worthy ally of the All-Star Legion of America," asserts Captain Tootsie, and the others nod their agreement.

"She sure saved my bacon," says Thom McAn.

'U.S.' Royal looks thoughtful for a moment, and jets back to the bank. He approaches Collinson quietly. "Do you have a secure line?"

Collinson nods, "Of course," and takes him to a back room. The Legionnaire dials 'Old Nick' Talbert to give him an update on their progress on the Dolliard case: success is ahead. He listens for a moment, grunts his assent, and hangs up.

"Thank you," he says to Collinson as he exits the bank. He rejoins his teammates and Miss Wonderly. "News from on high," he interrupts.

Bazooka grins, "Sounds like my area of expertise," he says. "What's up?"

"We've been called off the case," 'U.S.' Royal reports dourly. "On orders from 'Old Nick' Talbert himself."

"What?" "That can't be right." "Old Nick wouldn't ... "

H says, " ."

Captain Tootsie narrows his eyes. "What did you tell him?"

'U.S.' Royal shrugs, "I agreed to call off the investigation, of course."

R.C. looks at him, "What're you thinking, Captain?"

"I think there's more to this than we've been told," Captain Tootsie says. "I think the ASLA should investigate on our own account ... with Miss Wonderly at our side, if she wishes."

Miss Wonderly beams, "I'd be privileged."

Volto nods, "I will transport us to our home base at Madison Avenue, and we can compare notes."

"Once we've disposed of these scofflaws, of course," says Captain Tootsie with a grin, as he nods at the unconscious monster and the scientists who created him. "I hate to contradict 'Old Nick,' he's done right by us in the past, but this is too important a matter to let lie."

**TO BE CONTINUED ...**


	3. The Grain Curse

The All-Star Legion of America in "The Grain Curse"  
By Mikel Midnight (suggested by a plot from Dashiell Hammett)

In a comfortable Madison Avenue office building, a pair of colorful figures are seated at a large, stained-wood table.

Captain Tootsie smiles engagingly. "So ... Miss Wonderly ... I'm sorry if this sounds like a job interview ... you've proven to be perfectly capable of handling yourself in a crisis ... but we do need to know a little bit about you. There's a lot of secure work the team handles, you understand."

"Of course," she says, her eyes glittering. "Where to start? My grandparents emigrated to this country as refugees. They were Egyptian Jews, and ... " she paused, "is that a problem?"

His eyes widen, "Of course not! The All-Star Legion of America opposes racism in all its forms. We'd have no truck with anti-Semitism here. Hootin' zootz, one of our members, Volto, is an emigrant from the planet Mars!"

She gives a delighted laugh. "Really! I had no idea. Where was I? My grandfather quickly took to the American way of life, he wanted nothing to do with the habits of the old country. He finally settled down in California, and started a ranch, if you can believe it. My father became a newspaper man, and eventually returned to the East Coast. I was raised in both places ... grampa's farm is where I learned the rope tricks."

He nods, "And what prompted you to don the costume, then? Not some personal disaster, I hope."

"Well, if I learned rope tricks from grampa's ranch, dad's newspaper was where I learned about what's going on in the world. When I read about how my people had been treated during the war, I realised that one of us had to do something special to show we weren't all victims ... or Communists. I thought I'd try to be a mystery woman. I never thought I'd be offered entry into a whole team of them though."

"That all makes perfect sense to me," he says. He extends a hand. "As a gesture of trust ... my name is Thomas Stone."

She smiles, and takes his hand in her own. Her touch is warm, and lingers a moment longer than necessary. "Please to meet you, Thomas. My name is Tamar ... Tamar Doucas."

In the dark of the prison cell, two men remove the artificial skin which covered their forearms. Beneath the thin sheaths are, in two halves, delicate electrical components made from plant material and thus completely undetectable. Working together, they construct a transmitter.

There is a delicate rustle, like the sound of the wind whistling through grass, and then a voice. "Yes?"

"Dr. Power and Dr. Narsty reporting to the Secret Emperor," said one of the men. "Our treatments were quite successful. Anthony Travers is no longer human, and no longer capable of revealing any secrets. Unfortunately, he failed to eliminate the All-Star Legion; however, he is still controllable and remains a viable asset."

"That-is-quite-satisfactory." Sighing puffs of breath spaced the words. "I-will-arrange-for-your-release. Be-prepared-for-your-next-assignment. The-crime-is-mundane, but-the-specifics-are-most-certainly-not."

Elsewhere, 'U.S.' Royal returns to the estate belonging to General Dolliard. He walks up the steps to the door quietly, and pauses, measuring his thoughts. Finally, he rings the doorbell.

A minute later, there is still no response. He raises his hand to knock, and the door opens.

"Mrs. Dolliard?" he says in a clipped, polite tone, before he notices how pale her face is, and how dark the undersides of her eyes are, as if from weeping.

She sucks in air through her teeth. "I thought you people weren't going to come back here."

"This is a serious matter, Mrs. Dolliard. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have to speak to the General. He is involved with some people who have quite dangerous criminals in their employ, and frankly, we fear for his life."

She laughs, dry and humorlessly. "Oh, that's rich. If you people were really so concerned with him, you'd have left well enough alone."

He blinks at her. "I don't understand."

"My husband is dead, Royal. He committed suicide yesterday. I think you should leave, now."

She shuts the door on his face, leaving him to silence and his thoughts.

Volto walks easily through the quiet halls of the All-Star Legion's headquarters. In his hands is a bowl of cereal grains, which he partakes of regularly to recharge his magnetism.

The others, including the curious newcomer, Miss Wonderly, have long since left for the day, returning to wherever they call home. He reflects on the people he has encountered, even considered friends, on this strange new planet, but none of them have made any place 'home.' At least the headquarters, with its extensive security systems augmented by alien technology, allows him some stillness.

Crunching on the cereal grains, admittedly of much denser fiber and more savoury taste than the grains of his own planet, he does not hear anything amiss at first.

Suddenly, the lights flicker. He rises to his feet. He reflects whether this could be part of a practical joke on the part of H, the extradimensional imp which accompanies the team. "Thom?" he calls out, knowing that the silent H never travels in this dimension without his young friend.

He senses no response. The lights flicker again. Odd, he thinks to himself, and proceeds to the back of the building. It might be something simple, like the circuit breaker, although the alien augmentations ought to have prevented any shorts in the system.

Any further speculations of his are cut short as the building explodes.

At the door of a Daghull Street apartment, R.C. glances again at the address Peter Collinson had given him, and then knocks. The door opens, and he is greeted by a young woman whom, he decides, can't be a day over 19 and looks more like 16. She is a little bit of a toy-store window doll with a plump painted mouth and round brown eyes in a dimpled, olive-skinned face. She wears an expensive, Persian orange dress.

"Oh yes?" she enquires, glancing up and down at his uniform, which rather resembled a baseball player's.

"Um," he says, unaccountably embarrassed, "I am looking for a Mister Anthony Travers."

"Oh yes," she replies, sounding suddenly bored and little disappointed. "That would be my husband. I'm Mrs. Travers."

R.C. blinks, bemused. Travers had been 50 at least. "May I come in? I've been sent by Mister Collinson, at the bank."

She steps back away from the door, beckoning with one hand. "Oh yes, please do."

He enters, looking uneasily around the small apartment. It is almost claustrophobically decorated with statuettes and knickknacks, and the scent of incense is equally overpowering. Mrs. Travers sits down on a brocaded chair, one foot tucked under her, as she picks a still-burning cigarette off of an ashtray. "Mrs. Travers ... "

"Please," she interrupts, "call me Enid."

He attempts a smile. "Enid," he said, "is Mr. Travers available?"

She shakes her head, "He's off at one of his interminable errands," she says. "Is he in some sort of trouble?" There is a spark in her eye as she says this, and he wonders whether she relishes the idea of his being in trouble.

"By no means," replies R.C. "He has been doing some specialised work for us, and there have been some last minute contract changes. Unfortunately, Mr. Travers has been acting as liaison between us and the other party involved, and we need to find the name of his counterpart with our negotiating partners."

She giggles. "Oh yes? and you took time out from your busy baseball game to tell me this?"

He smiles indulgently, "I'm not really a baseball player." He leans forward, and looks from side to side, whispering in conspirital tone, "I go by the name R.C. I'm representing the All-Star Legion of America. You may have heard of us."

Her mouth parts open. "Oh yes," she says quietly, "I most certainly have. Well, if there's anything I can do to help America's mysterymen ... "

"Do you recall any phone calls he may have been making recently? Someone who isn't an old friend, of course, I'm talking about someone with whom he may have had business dealings. Do any names come to mind?"

She furrows her brow. "There was someone ... " she taps out the cigarette in a thoughtful gesture. "Something having to do with a political party, does that sound right?"

He nods, "It very well may be."

"Leo something ... not Leonard ... Leonidas, that's it."

"Yes, that does sound familiar, it must be the same man. I've spoken to him on the phone, myself, but only briefly. Do you recall his full name, by any chance?"

"Oh yes, I have it!" She snaps her fingers. "Doucas. Leonidas Doucas."

**TO BE CONTINUED ...**


	4. They Can Only Hang You Once

The All-Star Legion of America in "They Can Only Hang You Once"  
By Mikel Midnight (suggested by a plot from Dashiell Hammett)

Thom McAn calls to his impish companion, "H, I need my bazooka shoes!"

H says, " " as a pair of futuristic footwear appear on the boy's feet.

Captain Tootsie scowls, "Thom, you shouldn't go in there." He shields his eyes from the flames which encompass the building which had formerly been their headquarters. "I'm the one who ought to ... "

Thom McAn shakes his head. "You're the toughest member of the ASLA, but I'm the fastest," he says while ignoring 'U.S.' Royal's scowl. Before his team chairman can say another word, the boy rockets into the burning building. Carefully dodging the crumbling infrastructure, he finds the unconscious Volto. He leans down to pick up his teammate, and recoils in surprise as the alien's skin surface is scalding hot.

He looks around quickly, flying from room to room until he finds a still intact tent left over from one of his and Bazooka's camping trips. He cautiously wraps the tarp around Volto's form, then ties the cords attached to the corners of the tarp to the bazooka shoes.

R.C. stands ready with a pair of asbestos blankets which he throws over the pair. Thom McAn groans as the adrenaline rush starts to fade, and he begins to feel his burns. Captain Tootsie looks down at him, "Don't you ever do something like that again, young man!" His expression softens as the medics arrive and begin to examine the boy. "Is he going to be all right?" he enquires softly.

"Captain," says Thom McAn, "Volto ... he ... "

Captain Tootsie kneels by his unconscious comrade, and pulls the blanket aside. He purses his lips as he sees, beneath the skinlike surface which has melted away, the gears and circuitry of what is plainly an immensely complicated robot. He glances silently at his companions, and beckons Bazooka over to him.

As the boy approaches, Captain Tootsie whispers, "Take him to my Secret Legion clubhouse. You remember the way, right?"

Bazooka nods silently, and as Volto is lifted into his arms, he blows a bubble which takes them both airborne.

Captain Tootsie rises to his feet, and feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see the familiar face of a plainclothes policeman. "Sgt. Roy Dunhill," he says with a sociable, but weary, smile of acknowledgement. "I presume you're here to take our statements, Roy?"

Dunhill twitches his head slightly. "In a manner of speaking, Captain. May I present my superior, Lt. Pollock?"

Captain Tootsie raises an eyebrow at Dunhill's tone, and he beckons the other members of the ASLA to join him. "In a manner of speaking?" he asks. "How can we assist the law?"

"From what Dunhill informs me, your security systems were supposed to be unbreakable." Lt. Pollock glances at the sergeant and back at Captain Tootsie. "I admit my men even figure out half the stuff you have arranged there, but they appear to have been neatly dismantled with no signs of forced entry. Does any of that suggest an inside job?"

R.C. blinks. "What are you suggesting?"

Lt. Pollock looks down at a clipboard he had carried in his hand. "There's also the matter of the disappearance of a bank employee, Anthony Travers ... accusations of criminal trespass on the Dolliard estate ... " he glances at Thom McAn, "and numerous child endangerment issues. Did you allow this boy to run into that burning building to rescue one of your adult teammates? And then pass him off to another child to transport?"

Captain Tootsie shakes his head, "None of that describes what's happened. Just let me explain ... "

"I think you should explain it to the D.A. The three of you come with me, please. And you, young man, have an appointment with child protective services."

Thom McAn's eyes widen. "No way," he shouts as he activates his bazooka shoes, and he and H flee skyward, following the path that Bazooka trailed through the sky.

'U.S.' Royal shouts out, "Thom, damnit!" and then, "Hey!" as he feels a set of strong hands behind him. A pair of uniformed officers grab his arms, forcing his wrists into a pair of handcuffs. "This is not necessary, I'm a federal deputy!"

Lt. Pollock shrugs, "tell it to the judge," he says as Captain Tootsie and R.C. are similarly cuffed. The former tenses his muscles, prepared to break free of the restraints, but then relaxes. "Let it go, Royal. We're not criminals. The truth will out."

Elsewhere, a man with a furrowed brow pores over a copy of 'Capital Whispers,' the Washington D.C.-based scandal sheet. Not seeing the article he'd feared, he breathes a deep sigh of relief and taps a cigarette out of a silver case he keeps in his jacket pocket. He reaches for the match as the phone rings.

"Senator Jarboe's office," he says into the mouthpiece.

"Good-afternoon, Mister-Gira. I-trust-you-recognise-my-voice."

He feels a chill down his spine. "Of course I do, Mister Doucas. I noticed you still haven't used the information I've sent you. When can I expect the photo negatives to be sent to me?"

There is a pause, and when the voice resumes, it sounds almost disappointed. "If-you-recall-our-discussion, nothing-will-be-brought-into-play-until-after-the-election. Have-you-been-contacted-by-a-member-of-the-All-Star-Legion-of-America?"

"The .. . the mysterymen?" Gira blinks, "Are they involved with the Senator? No, certainly not."

"Ensure-that-if-they-do, I-am-to-be-notified-immediately. I-will-trust-you-to-be-truthful-but-discreet. We-can-agree-about-the-importance-of-discretion, can-we-not, Mister-Gira? Just-as-I-have-been-discreet, having-learned-of-your-unfortunate-predilections?"

He bites his lip. "Yes, yes, of course."

There is a click on the other side of the line as the call is ended. He tries to light the cigarette again, his hands shaking.

Skyward, the two young boys flee the crime scene as they head to Captain Tootsie's secret headquarters: a camouflaged house deep in a wooded area of Hoboken, New Jersey. "Akoozab," says the boy bearing Volto as the reach their destination.

"I hope someone's home," says Thom McAn.

Bazooka nods, glumly. "Can you give me a hand with him?"

"Oh ... sure, sorry, you had to carry him all that way." Carefully, they take their unconscious teammate by his shoulders and legs, and march over to the house. As they approach, a window slides partway open and the muzzle of a popgun is extruded. "Who goes there?" says a voice.

Bazooka releases Volto's legs gently, and turns around to face the voice, hands raised appeasingly. "The All-Star Legion of America," he says.

"Gee ... they are!" says another voice, and the front door opens. "Come on in, Thom and Baz ... gee, is that Volto with you? What happened to him?"

From inside, the three young boys named Fatso, Fisty and Rollo came out to help the other two, and they all layed the body carefully on a cot in one of the back rooms. Fisty grinned, "Let me introduce our two newest members ... Marybelle and Sweetie," he said, gesturing to a pair of small blonde girls. "We ain't just a boy's club anymore, I guess."

"Hey Thom," Marybelle said, "we've heard about you guys from Captain Tootsie, glad to finally meet you."

Bazooka grins, "Same here ... the ASLA isn't a boy's club anymore either, I guess, since we rescued ... or were rescued by ... a gal named Miss Wonderly."

Rollo eyes Volto speculatively. "So is this a robot duplicate of Volto, or something?"

Thom shifts uneasily. "I'm not sure. I think ... it might be Volto himself."

Fisty blinks, "He's a robot? huh."

H bobs in the air, pointing to Volto frantically. "What is it," Thom asks. The extradimensional imp mimes an act of staring down at Volto through a looking-glass, and Thom looks at Rollo perplexedly.

"A magnifying glass? Of course we've got one," he says. Sweetie jumps up, and rushes to another room, in order to return carrying a portable detective kit. She opens it up, and peers through it at the location H had indicated. "Hey, that's something else," she says in an awed voice.

As the others crowd around, Thom takes the magnifying glass and looks closely at the alien machinework. It soon becomes apparent that the interior is far from deactivated, and that the micro-miniaturised machinery is attempting to repair itself.

Bemused, they pass the spyglass from one hand to the other. "This means he's going to wake up soon, right," asks Bazooka anxiously.

"Your guess is as good as mine," says Thom McAn.

"From what you told me when we were carrying in, thing are looking pretty grim for the Captain and the rest of your friends," says Rollo. "If you two need a place to hide out until things blow over, and a safe place for Volto to ... do whatever it is he's doing ... you can treat the Secret Legion's clubhouse as your own."

Thom McAn breathes a deep sigh of relief, extending a hand to the Secret Legionnaire. "Thanks, friend."

Thirty days later …

**TO BE CONTINUED ... **


	5. The Maltese …

The All-Star Legion of America in "The Maltese …"  
By Mikel Midnight (suggested by a plot from Dashiell Hammett)

"Gotcha!"

Miss Wonderly's wire cord loops around the ankle of the winged woman. The woman cries out, her elevation halted, and drops the parcel she is carrying. "Volto, don't let it break!"

Volto smiles, "Remember, my right hand attracts." He draws the parcel towards himself, and catches it with a deft hand. He unwraps a corner, to reveal the Maltese Shofar: an 8th century ram's horn crammed with jewels, and smiles to himself. Suddenly, he finds himself under attack by a sonic barrage. He falls to his knees, and glances up to see another winged woman soaring at him, mouth open in a deadly song.

He raises his left hand, magnetically repelling the woman from him. A third swoops in, and adds to the attack. Miss Wonderly, being dragged across the ground, gives a fierce cry and pulls hard on the cord, pulling her opponent into the flight path of the third woman. The pair collide mid-air, and flutter to the ground. Miss Wonderly groans, falling to her knees and clutching at her right shoulder in pain.

One of the winged women she had grounded walks over to her. "You're lucky the Swans aren't killers," she says, and opens her mouth to again emit her 'swan song,' collapsing Miss Wonderly to the ground. She stumbles to her feet, wincing at the pain which courses through her head, and at the sensation of wetness at the side of her head, touches a fingertip to her ear. She pulls it away to see it spotted with blood.

Volto repels the woman, before the remaining Swans focus their joint attention on him, and he too falls to his knees.

Miss Wonderly falls again, vision blurring, when seemingly from nowhere, a baseball beans her attacker on the skull. She looks up, puzzled at the alleviation of pain, to see 'U.S.' Royal jetting in, Captain Tootsie riding on the handles of his bicycle. One of the Swans attacking Volto turns her attention to the intruders, but Captain Tootsie's jet-accelerated right hook downs her and her still standing companion before she has time to prepare.

"Sigla Syzik and her little gang are past due for a spell of incarceration," Volto says with a smile as he rises to his feet. He walks over to Miss Wonderly, assisting her as she stumbles to her feet. "Good to see you again, my friends. It has been too long."

"The longest month of my life," replies Captain Tootsie.

'U.S.' Royal returns the smile, wanly, knowing the alien never felt completely comfortable with the human ritual of shaking hands. "We probably shouldn't even be seen together, although when we learned you were engaged with the Swans, we felt we had to step in."

Volto draws the Maltese Shofar to himself. "I shall return this to its rightful owner, and we shall all meet anon."

R.C. says, "No." He glances at Miss Wonderly. "She'll do it."

Volto looks puzzled, and starts to object, but Miss Wonderly waves her hand dismissively. "It's okay, I'm sure they just want to do some 'boy talk.'" She glances at Captain Tootsie with a puzzled and slightly hurt expression. "I can get that dingus back to the museum on my own ... heck, if I have to, I'll call a cab."

She bundles up the antique, and watches as, after a mumbled word from Captain Tootsie, Volto generates a gold sphere from a hidden compartment in his belt buckle, encasing the team within the sphere which soon becomes airborne. She sighs.

Within the sphere, Volto looks at his teammates quizzically. "Was there some reason for excluding Miss Wonderly? She has been a valuable ally during your ... incarceration. With Bazooka and Thom McAn in hiding with Captain Tootsie's Secret Legion, we've even had to employ an outside contractor, private investigator Ted Shane, to assist us."

"I remember Shane, he's a good man, we've employed him before," says Captain Tootsie.

Volto nods. "And Miss Wonderly?" "She ... " Captain Tootsie looks at R.C. helplessly. "You say it. I'm going to recues myself on this matter."

R.C. says, "She may have had an ulterior motive for associating with the team."

"She's risked her life several times to save mine, while you people were in lockdown," Volto says. "Even the first time we all encountered her, she risked her life. Surely you can't be suggesting she's in cahoots with our enemies?"

Captain Tootsie shakes his head. "I certainly don't think she's the one who set the bomb."

R.C. says, "But we have reason to believe she may not be entirely trustworthy, either."

"Those reasons being ... ?"

'U.S.' Royal reaches into the rack of his jet-propelled bicycle and pulls out a newspaper, Capital Whispers. "This scandal sheet ... and that's a dignified expression for the trash they publish ... is owned by Leonidas Doucas. He also owns a chain of private detective agencies. He's also Miss Wonderly's father."

Volto raises an eyebrow. "That's hardly conclusive."

R.C. says, "No, it's isn't. But do you remember Anthony Travers, the clerk from the Continental Options Bank who led us into battle against Dr. Power and Dr. Narsty? He was apparently a hireling of Doucas."

"I ... see. So what are you proposing?"

"The three of us have all done jail time over this. It's best we not be seen in public together ... even today's outing was a huge risk. Volto, as a foreign national, you should continue to carry the All-Star Legion banner alongside Miss Wonderly and Ted Shane, but keep those pointed ears of your open and report back to me if she lets anything slip. 'U.S.' Royal is going to investigate Dolliard; that's where this all started. R.C. is going to keep an eye on some of Capital Whispers' golden boys and judas goats and look for patterns. For my part," Captain Tootsie steps up, "I am going to interview Leonidas Doucas."

Dr. Power adjusts the collar of his new suit, and snaps on his cufflinks. His current work had been quite remunerative, and he allowed himself this minor indulgence, the rest of his funding being devoted to his physiological research. With what he'd learned from the Travers project, he ought to be able to create a new strain of bulletproof men, much superior to the originals. He steps out into the lab and into the city street, when he suddenly finds himself whipped into the air at a dizzying speed.

He screams as he finds himself suspended above the city, and when his acceleration slows, he looks up to see the person holding him by his shoulders. "Thom McAn!" he growls.

The boy looks down at his arch-foe. "Hello again, Dr. Power. I thought this was a nice place to go for a little chat. What do you know about Leonidas Doucas?"

Dr. Power sneers. "As if I would tell you anything? Put me down, now!"

Thom McAn shrugs, "Suit yourself," and releases his grip.

Dr. Power barely has time to scream his objection before he finds himself plummeting earthwards. At the last minute, he is caught by Bazooka, the young boy drawing him skywards again though the power of his bubble gum. "We can keep this up all day, you know," he says out of the corner of his mouth. "Ready to talk yet?"

"It's not worth my ... no!" Bazooka lets him fall again, and he is once more caught by Thom McAn and pulled skyward. "You know, you've been putting on weight, Dr. Power," he says, "Bazooka's arms and mine are going to get tired eventually."

"Why don't you both go to ... no!" The boys play their game of catch for several more iterations before the vertigo starts to overtake him completely.

"You're looking a little green around the gills, Dr. Power," Thom McAn observes.

"Okay, please ... no don't let me go! I'll tell you what I know."

"Akoozab," says the other boy, and is lowered to the earth, the others joining him.

"So, speak up," says Thom McAn, bazooka shoes pointed dangerously at Dr. Power's head.

"Okay, okay ... let me get my bearings, please." The scientist takes a few deep breaths, clutching at the ground gratefully. "Okay, Doucas hired me and Dr. Narsty to cut off your investigations. We ... hid Anthony Travers, and used our scientific genius to disable the alien technology at your headquarters and burn it down."

"What? That was you? If Volto hadn't been a r-"

"Shh!" Bazooka silences his teammate with a knowing look. Some things are meant to be circumspect. "Miss Wonderly is let off the hook, anyway. That's good."

Thom McAn nods, chastised. "What does Doucas care about Travers? How was he connected to Dolliard?"

Dr. Powers shakes his head, "I don't know ... no! really!" he looks panicked as Bazooka blows out a large pink bubble from his bony jaw. "Look, all I know is that Dolliard had some papers in his lockbox that Doucas wanted access to. Travers used his position at the bank to remove them, photograph them, and send Doucas the prints ... but I don't know why."

Thom McAn furrows his brow. "Okay. That's all for now, I guess. We'll be in touch, so don't go anywhere."

The night is warm, but Helene Dolliard still feels a chill. She pulls her jacket tighter round her, as she enters the garage from the interior door, hoping a drive will clear her head. She stops in her tracks, breath caught, when she sees the bicycle leaning against the car.

"Royal," she says tersely. "You're going to scratch the paint." She reaches her hand out to tip the bicycle over on its side.

'U.S.' Royal rushes forward, catching it before it hits the ground. "Hey now, no reason to be crude."

"I had hoped you'd leave me alone, now that Dolliard's gone."

"You certainly tried your best to ensure that I would, didn't you? Thirty days in jail was quite an incentive."

She sighs. "I admit sought advice from Lt. Pollock, but I swear, I just wanted him to speak to you. I had nothing to do with what happened."

"You seem to specialise in having nothing to do with anything, don't you? Mady Brefina, Helene Dolliard ... you were calling yourself Valerie Purvis when Don Dolliard first met you, weren't you? I'm not going to leave you alone to play more games with men's lives." He gripped her arms tightly, hard enough to make her wince, "What do you know about Leonidas Doucas?"

Her face turns pale, "You know about that?"

"I don't know enough." He releases her, and she crumples against the side of the car, arms folded gingerly over each other where he'd bruised her.

"Doucas was trying to blackmail Dolliard. Dolliard had somehow gotten hold of evidence about some of my ... activities during the war. He was trying to keep them under wraps, but Doucas discovered them."

"So this is all about you. Another man dead at your hands." He looks her up and down, scrutinising her carefully. "But ... this isn't the whole picture, is it? The All-Star Legion of America weren't sent into lockdown because we were interfering with a blackmail scheme. Doucas has enough money of his own that he doesn't need whatever Dolliard was able to pay him. Why else was he interested in the General?"

"I can only guess."

"You're too slick to not be keeping track of whatever Dolliard was up to, sister. What do you know?"

She wilts under his eyes, "Haldorn."

"What?"

"Congressman Haldorn. He was on the board of Barabas Inc. when they were suspected of selling faulty goods to the military. Dolliard had knowledge of Haldorn's crimes, hated him, and would certainly have exposed him if he ran for Vice President under Senator Jarboe's presidential campaign. Doucas is backing Jarboe, and that's why he wanted Dolliard silenced."

"Michael?"

Michael Gira looks up from his typewriter at Senator Jarboe's headquarter. "Yes, Miss Murgatroyd?"

"There's a ... baseball player here to see you ... ?"

R.C. enters Gira's office and walks over to the other man's desk. "Hello, Mister Gira. My name is R.C. I'm not really a baseball player. I'm representing the All-Star Legion of America. You may have heard of us."

Gira sucks air through in his teeth, "Yes, of course. Thank you, Miss Murgatroyd, that will be all." He watches as the elderly woman, eyes askance, exits the office and closes the door behind her. He returns his attention to the other man. "How may I assist you? Are you here to volunteer for the campaign?"

R.C. smirks. He leans back against the desk, releases a baseball into the air, and begins to bounce it upwards against his bat in a repetitious movement. "Not hardly. Mysterymen typically are advised to steer clear of politics. But I am hoping you can assist me with some information."

Gira nods, "Anything I can do."

"Are you familiar with the name, Leonidas Doucas?"

Gira's smile stiffens, and rushes of hot and cold flash through his body. "I ... can't say that I am," he says, as calmly as possible.

"Funny you should say so," R.C. continues. "He edits and publishes Capital Whispers, which has run favorable articles on Senator Jarboe for the last several months." His baseball bat strikes out suddenly, knocking over Gira's wastepaper bin. "Isn't that a copy of Capital Whispers right there? Not that that isn't an appropriate place for it."

"I don't, ah, pay much attention to the bylines ... "

"You're a lousy liar, Gira." He bats the ball an inch over Gira's shoulder, at sufficient speed to rend through the cloth of his chair back before careening wildly about the room until R.C. reaches out to pluck it from the air.

Gira ducks and releases a frightened shout, then looks at the Legionnaire with a shocked expression. "Okay, okay, look, I ... this isn't necessary. I have been in touch with Doucas. Or rather, he's been in touch with me."

"Go on," R.C. nods.

Gira sighs, "I've been feeding him advance information about the campaign, exclusive interviews, things like that. There are no official ties between the two, which is why I don't like to make the link public, but Doucas has been very actively supporting the Senator."

R.C.'s repetitious bouncing picks up again, the ball reaching almost to the ceiling, until he palms the ball again, turning to face Gira directly. "I'll accept that for now. But I'll be back with more questions."

He strolls out, Michael Gira watching him carefully. Finally, he lights a cigarette and picks up the telephone, dialing a number he knows by heart. "Mister Doucas?"

The secretaries and reporters on staff at Capital Whispers gape as Captain Tootsie strides through the central offices. A slender man, his desk plate reading 'Kenneth,' stands up as the mysteryman approaches. "Sir, did you have an appointment?"

Captain Tootsie barely glances at him, "He'll be expecting me." Pushing his way through the door labeled 'Editor's Desk,' he stands before the man at the immense, carved wooden desk. "Leonidas Doucas?"

The man seated behind the desk nods frugally. He is approaching fifty, fairly plump but in perfect shape, except perhaps a bit soft, with opaquely glistening eyes whose blackness is repeated with variety of finish in thick and curly hair, freshly ironed suit, and enameled shoes. His smooth-shaven ivory skin -- ball-round over a tight stiff collar -- is peculiarly unlined in his suavely strong oval face with something in it suggesting an Egyptian drawing. Hawk nose and broad sloping forehead exaggerate his dark, large intelligent eyes. Against this background his tie is half a foot of scarlet flame. "Captain-Tootsie. At-last-we-meet." His voice is low and musical as he speaks.

"Enough with the clichés, Doucas. You've been all but directly challenging the All-Star Legion for weeks now. I want to know what you're after."

Red and crystal glint on the hand with which the fat man takes off his black derby. "Power, of-course. Why-else-does-one-do-anything? You-know-something-about-power, you-with-your-chocolaty-candies." His smile goes away as stiffly as it comes, with as little elasticity. "Let-me-introduce-someone-else-who-has-learned-about-power. You-may-recall-Mister-Anthony-Travers."

A familiar, hideous figure shambles forward, immense hands wrapping around Captain Tootsie's skull. "Aeaea!"

**TO BE CONTINUED ... **


	6. The Woman in the Dark

The All-Star Legion of America in "The Woman in the Dark"  
By Mikel Midnight (suggested by a plot from Dashiell Hammett)

The doorbell rings. "I'll get it, Astrid." The heavyset man rises from his chair, walking over to the door, which he opens to reveal a man on a bicycle. "Mister Ames?" the man enquires.

"Yeah, that's me, is that my pizza? Wow, that was fast."

'U.S.' Royal nods encouragingly, "Feel Good Now pizza delivery service is the fastest in the city."

Ames takes the pizza and gives the deliveryman a generous tip, "Don't spend it all in one place, y'hear?" He shuts the door as 'U.S.' Royal nods a "Thank you, Sir," and counts out the change. He sighs, that was the last delivery for the evening, time to meet up with his teammates. He gets back on the road, jetting out to a camouflaged house deep in a wooded area of Hoboken.

R.C. rises up to greet him as he enters. "How's the Captain," 'U.S.' Royal enquires.

"I'm fine, Royal." Captain Tootsie smiles, as he walks in from the back room, followed by Marybelle and Sweetie who follow after him, fussing. "Just about recovered from the treatment Travers gave me." He grins at his entourage, "The prettiest nurses a man's ever had don't do any harm, neither." They blush accommodatingly.

'U.S.' Royal grips his hand firmly. "It was a good night," he said, taking out several bills from his wallet and handing them over.

"Good. The money we made when I sold my spaceship the Rocketeer is almost gone, and we still have to keep the Legion active and Ted Shane on the payroll." Captain Tootsie sighs. "Hootin' zoots, I can't believe we're dependent on things like you delivering pizza and the boys running paper routes ... maybe I ought to start begging on the streets."

R.C. shrugs, "Old Nick isn't answering our phone calls, either."

"Unfortunately, he may be the one behind my losing my job as a United States deputy." 'U.S.' Royal purses his lips. "He's never done us wrong before, but something or someone has sure gotten to him."

"You can say his name," Captain Tootsie says. "Leonidas Doucas."

"Are my ears burning?" 'Old Nick' Talbert walks into the room, leaning on his cane.

Captain Tootsie tousles Marybelle's hair. "Sorry girls," he says to the distaff Secret Legionnaires, "Grownup talk." They pout slightly, but wander to another part of the house.

R.C. reaches for his bat. "You have a lot of nerve showing your face here, Nick."

Old Nick shifts his cane upwards in his hand, and then in a lightning motion swings the hooked end down to catch R.C.'s bat and toss it aside. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you people have been causing me? I've been calling in every favor I have owed, just to keep you out of jail again. Doucas' tendrils have dug deep."

Captain Tootsie glances at his fellow travelers, "You certainly deserve a hearing," he says to Old Nick. "What do you have for us?"

Old Nick takes a seat, folding one leg over the other. "I don't know what you have. I can tell you that for fifteen years now, Doucas has been collecting information about moguls, so that he may make them his tools. He has a chain of private detective agencies, as well as hirelings in banks, in hotels, and apartments. I'm sure you're aware of his scandal sheet, Capital Whispers."

R.C. nods, "All too well ... it's not pleasant reading unless you have a taste for yellow journalism and society gossip."

Captain Tootsie leans back, "That's all old news."

"Some people do," Old Nick shrugs to R.C. "Sometimes Doucas may be bought off, sometimes not, as in one case where he ruined a presidential aspirant who had millions to offer him. Doucas' usual way of getting hold of a politician, is to get something on his secretary or other intimate who will know secrets, and use that as a wedge into those secrets. He has also employed adventuresses."

"I think we've had a run-in with one of those," Captain Tootsie says dourly. "He's set his daughter on us, code-named Miss Wonderly. We've kept her distracted by sending her adventuring with Volto and Ted Shane."

R.C. looks thoughtful. "There's a shifty fellow named Michael Gira who works for Senator Jarboe ... he must be one of those secretaries or intimates you've mentioned. That explains a lot."

Old Nick nods, "That is helpful, R.C. We'll put a finger on Gira. Doucas also has tendrils in Congressman Haldorn's campaign, as well as Senator Rushton's."

"We knew about Haldorn ... Dolliard was involved with him ... but Rushton's name is new to us." 'U.S.' Royal raises an eyebrow, "Wait a minute ... isn't he running opposed to the Jarboe / Haldorn ticket?"

"Yes he is," Old Nick agrees. "But what Doucas' ultimate plans are, we haven't been able to discern. They run a tight ship at Capital Whispers."

Captain Tootsie narrows his eyes. "You've come here because you want us to do your work for you, but without any official support."

Old Nick says, "I've done the best I can from my end ... but yes, we need the All-Star Legion of America."

'U.S.' Royal sighs, and walks over to look out a window into the dappled green sunlight. He turns to face his teammates. "I think it's time to end this farce with Miss Wonderly."

Captain Tootsie hides his wince. "Agreed."

Later, a familiar golden bubble descends near the house. As it hits the ground it explodes silently, revealing Volto, Miss Wonderly, and Ted Shane. Old Nick having since departed, not wanting word of his continued involvement with the Legion to find its way back to Leonidas Doucas, the other three adult members of the team greet the new arrivals as they enter the secret house.

Ted Shane removes his fedora and unties the belt of his trench coat. "You know, I don't think I've ever been to this hq before," he says. Shane's jaw is long and bony, his chin a jutting v under the more flexible v of his mouth. His nostrils curve back to make another, smaller, v. His yellow-grey eyes are horizontal. The v motif is picked up again by thickish brows rising outward from twin creases above a hooked nose, and his pale brown hair grow down -- from high flat temples -- in a point on his forehead. He looks rather pleasantly like a blond satan.

Captain Tootsie nods, "You'd have had no reason to."

Miss Wonderly approaches Captain Tootsie, giving him an affectionate hug. She pauses there, holding the position a moment longer than necessary, and he can feel the lithe contours of her body as she presses against him. "I've missed you, Thomas," she whispers into his ear, "it's been a long time."

His smile in return is pained. "Yes, it has been," he replies quietly.

Volto coughs, breaking into the awkward moment. "This is the first time the team has been called together since the battle with the Swans. What's the occasion, Captain? Will the boys be arriving soon?"

Captain Tootsie shakes his head. "They're been under orders to distance themselves from the organisation for now. They actually investigated Dr. Power against my authorisation, though to be fair, he is one of Thom McAn's arch-foes and so the boy has discretionary rights. And the information he and Bazooka gathered was valuable."

'U.S.' Royal stares levelly at Miss Wonderly. "It's been a convoluted process, but we have managed to put together a picture of the controlling force which has been behind the scenes of most of our recent troubles; a secret emperor who rules over an empire of corruption."

R.C. says, "Miss Wonderly, have you ever heard a scandal sheet titles Capital Whispers?"

She leans back in her chair, crossing her legs in a graceful motion. "Of course I have."

R.C. says, "It's your father's, isn't it? Leonidas Doucas?"

"I've never denied it. I could have just given you a false name, you know."

'U.S.' Royal says, "You're aware that he hired Dr. Power and Dr. Narsty to destroy our headquarters, and that they were also behind the kidnapping of Anthony Travers, who has now become mutated into that same monster whom you helped us defeat, and who later assaulted Captain Tootsie? You're aware that he was probably behind our arrest?"

"My father is a scrupulous editor and businessman. I don't know about any of those other activities." She quirked a smile, "Where did you get this story, from the mouth of some mad scientist or other? I've been on your side since we met, and you'd take accusations from a source like that seriously?"

'U.S.' Royal says, "It was a quite a coincidence that you showed up when you did, sister."

Ted Shane reaches down and strikes a match against a chair leg, using it to light a cigarette which he lets dangle between his lips. "What made you think we heard about Travers from a mad scientist?"

She shrugs, a sour expression on her face. "Who else were you talking about, other than those scofflaws you were chasing outside the Continental Options Bank? I usually operate in the Baltimore environs, and when you showed up it attracted attention."

'U.S.' Royal waves his hand dismissively. "Yes, I'm sure you have an answer for everything, but we're getting off point. If Powers and Narsty didn't destroy our headquarters, then the next obvious suspect is yourself. Even if you didn't, we have every reason to believe you're here to gather information and report back to your father."

"If you expect me to denounce my own father to you, you're mad."

"Hootin' zoots!" Captain Tootsie rises to his feet. "All of us have suffered because of Leonidas Doucas, lost our homes or our jobs or our good names. I might have been killed by that monster he keeps on a leash. I curse your father, and I curse you too, if you can't see the evil that he does, or refuse to act to prevent it!"

"Oh Thomas," she says quietly, with a sigh. She stands and walks towards the door.

"Tamar!" He reaches out and grabs her by the arm, pulling her to him as he plants a bruising kiss on her lips. She gasps and spins away. "I'd best be leaving now," she says.

They watch silently as she departs. Captain Tootsie grinds his teeth, his expression actuated by hate and love mixed.

Volto walks over to stand by his side. "Old friend," he says quietly. "It was perhaps an error in judgment to approach Doucas alone. It is time for the All-Star Legion of America to work as a team once again. It is time for a reckoning."

**TO BE CONTINUED ... **


	7. The Big Knockover

The All-Star Legion of America in "The Big Knockover"  
By Mikel Midnight (suggested by a plot from Dashiell Hammett)

A golden bubble explodes, and at midnight all the agents gather on the rooftop of the Sheth building, where Capital Whispers has its offices.

Captain Tootsie whispers, "You're certain you want to accompany us on this, Shane?"

Ted Shane nods. "The ASLA have always done right be me in the past, and I don't like what Doucas has been up to. Besides, with the boys absent, you're shorthanded." He checks his gun. "Even if I'm not a flying boy."

Volto smiles, "You don't have to fly, with me around."

'U.S.' Royal looks uneasy as he and the others slip on thin gloves. "So everyone is prepared for some basic breaking and entering? I must say none of this vigilantism feels right to me."

R.C. shrugs, "Most of the rest of us never had deputy status or even detective licenses, Royal ... we've always been vigilantes."

"Don't be distracted," Captain Tootsie says. "We don't know how many pies Doucas might have his fingers in, but we're after information on Dolliard, Jarboe, Haldorn, or Rushton, or anything that connects him to known criminals like Power and Narsty."

Ted Shane reaches into his left jacket pocket to pull out a lockpick. He leans down and manipulates it into the door which leads up to the ceiling hatch, finally releasing it with a quiet but audible click. He slides the door and opens it quietly, glancing up at Captain Tootsie.

"Capital Whispers is in the set of suites marked 1250," Captain Tootsie says. "Let's go."

As the others traverse the stairwell, 'U.S.' Royal picks up his bicycle and carries it awkwardly down the flight of steps, bringing up the rear. Flashlights in hand, they make their way to the scandal sheet's central offices.

R.C. and 'U.S.' Royal maneuver around the rooms, closing blinds and curtains to minimise outside exposure as the legionnaires set to work.

Ted Shane's eyes catch a glare of red out of the thin strip of visibility to the side of one of the closed blinds. "Captain, we have visitors."

Captain Tootsie glances outside. "Hootin' zoots, they were fast. Must have been some sort of silent alarm we didn't catch."

Lt. Pollock's voice booms out through a megaphone. "All-Star Legion! Don't try to fool us, we know you're in there. I don't know what turned you against the law, but you're under arrest for breaking & entering. Come out with your hands up!"

Captain Tootsie glances at his teammates. "Volto, get Shane out of here."

Ted Shane bristles. "Don't condescend to me, Captain. I got into this with you, and I'm not going to let Doucas lock you away without trying to do something about it."

"You're an outside contractor, Shane." Captain Tootsie waves his hand dismissively at him, and without another word, Volto encases Ted Shane inside a golden bubble.

'U.S.' Royal says, "Cap, the police will see Shane leaving ... even if we surrender they'll know something's up."

Captain Tootsie nods thoughtfully. "Good point. Volto, can you set that thing on auto-pilot? Let's go provide a distraction."

The quartet maneuvers their way to the front door, as Captain Tootsie bites down on one of the chocolaty candies which give him an added boost of energy. "3 ... 2 ... 1 ... go!" he says and the All-Star Legion take the offensive. The battle rages in a single a four-way intersection, and the All-Star Legion of America find themselves struggling against the representatives of the law they had all sworn to protect. The streetlights cast long shadows against the black asphalt, their dim white chiaroscuros punctuated by green street signs and the glare of red from the police cars.

Captain Tootsie runs straight for the forefront police car. Lt. Pollock backs up in shock as the energized mystery man braces his shoulder and hands against the automobile, up-ending it with a howl and turning it on its side.

Volto glances upwards to see the golden bubble departing from the top of the Sheth building, and almost smiles as a sweep of his left hand repels the barrage of bullets which assail the team.

R.C. slams a baseball through two windows of a police car. As the police duck to avoid to shattering glass, he follows up behind it, bounding atop the hood and rolling over it, slamming at their gun hands with his bat.

'U.S.' Royal jets forward, swiveling back onto his rear wheels and then using his jets to propel him over the line of police cars, harassing them from behind, punching and kicking furiously.

Eventually the uproar of crashes, crunches, gunshots, and the shouts of men are drowned out by sirens as official reinforcements arrive, breaking into the cacophony of violence. A directed shot from one of the newcomers strikes one of 'U.S.' Royal's jet-propulsion units, and he spins out of control, colliding with a parked police car. R.C. is, likewise, soon overpowered. A half-dozen men surround Captain Tootsie, guns drawn, and Lt. Pollock shouts over the din, "Stand down!"

Captain Tootsie eyes his teammates, and nods to Volto, who lowers his hands. The four men are soon handcuffed. Captain Tootsie strains against the cuffs momentarily, knowing he could break his way free, but then sighs and slumps in resignation. They are forced into the back seats of squad cars and driven to police headquarters.

A plump man, whose ivory skin and flame-red tie stand out in the darkness as they are illumined by the streetlights, emerges into the intersection. He shakes his head and a "tsk" escapes his lips.

Later, the team is broken up into separate cells as they await arraignment. Sgt. Roy Dunhill walks through the unornamented hallways and glares at them. Captain Tootsie glances up from where he had been seated in cell. "Hello, Roy."

"Captain," he says tersely, and then sighs. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out a cigar and box of matches, striking a blaze against a wall and then lighting his cigar. "What the blazes is going on? You know people are accusing the lot of you of being lunatics. Vigilantism, criminal trespass, breaking and entering, slander ... a lot of voices are clamoring to get the All-Star Legion locked up permanently."

Captain Tootsie crooks a cynical smile. "Thanks for the advice, Roy." He leans back, folding his hands behind his neck and closes his eyes.

Sgt. Dunhill points at Captain Tootsie, "Don't shut me out, you ... oh what's the use." He shakes his head and then swivels on his heel to return to his desk.

After he leaves, R.C. murmurs, just loud enough to be heard, "We sticking around for this, Captain?"

Captain Tootsie opens his eyes and looks around. "No. Volto, can you do anything?"

Volto shakes his head. "Sorry, Captain. My powers of magnetic attraction and repulsion are insufficient to break through these secured iron bars ... and it has been too long since I have eaten any cereal grains for them to be recharged to their peak."

'U.S.' Royal says, "There must be something we can use. Oh ... Captain ... it looks like Roy left us a present."

Captain Tootsie walks over to the bars and stares into the space Sgt. Roy Dunhill had been occupying, and then grins wryly. In the corner is a dropped box of matches. "Hootin' zoots, maybe we can fake them out. Volto ... can you use your powers to light those matches?"

"I've ... never done any thing like that ... although magnetism and electricity are all related ... maybe ... " Slowly, he extends first his right hand, then his left, and aims both at the box of matches. It begins to whirl in place, caught between opposing forces, and Volto narrows his eyes as he struggles to maintain equal balance. Eventually, increasing internal friction causes the matches to ignite. Volto lowers his hands, exhausted.

Captain Tootsie laughs, and reaches down the threadbare mattress in his cell, picking up the flat pillow and forcing it through the bars, tossing it on the flames. Eventually, it begins to spread to the walls.

The Legionnaires remain silent, watching the fire slowly begin to spread out of control. Panicked shouts are soon heard from other prisoners in the facility. After a minute, a squad of guards enter the floor, some armed, some carrying fire gear. As fire extinguishers are aimed at the blaze, the armed guards arrange into formation and open the prisoners' doors. "Evacuate! Everyone out orderly - now!"

As the Legionnaires are released into the exercise field, Volto encases them in a golden bubble and the team ascends skyward. Bullets and curses follow from the ground, equally ineffective.

R.C. turns at Captain Tootsie. "Where to, boss?"

Captain Tootsie looks askance at his teammates. "Back to Hoboken ... the Secret Legion headquarters is still uncompromised, so far as we know. I doubt we can stay there for long, but we have to regroup."

Volto nods silently, and directs the bubble along a familiar path. Finally, they arrive deep in the wooded area and locate the camouflaged house. The bubble explodes silently, and the four men walk in, to see a trio of familiar faces. "Bazooka? Thom McAn? H? What are you three doing here?" Captain Tootsie enquires with a furrowed brow.

H says, " "

"We saw you on television," Bazooka says. "We gambled you'd head back here ... we sent Rollo and the others back home."

'U.S.' Royal nods, "That was the right thing to do. But we have to clear out here ourselves."

Captain Tootsie turns to the boys, "We can't be seen in public anymore. We have to go undercover. Do Marybelle and Sweetie have any hair dye here?"

The boys look at one another. "Uhn," Bazooka says, "some ... but it's hideous stuff just for playacting, it's not ... "

"That'll do," Captain Tootsie says, "we ... " He is interrupted by the sound of a crash, and the house shakes as if it is contained within an earthquake. "Hootin' zoots, what was that?"

R.C. peers out the window, and then turns back at his teammates. "You guys gotta see this ... "

'U.S.' Royal joins his teammate, and his face pales. Outside the Secret Legion headquarter, a small army of hideous figures, eight feet in height, with flowing black hair and glowing eyes, surround the house, grabbing hold of the foundation and walls and attempting to destroy the structure with their bare hands. "Aeaea!" "Aeaea!" "Aeaea!"

"Hootin' zoots," Captain Tootsie says quietly.

Thom McAn calls to his impish companion, "H, I need my bazooka shoes!"

H says, " " as a pair of futuristic footwear appear on the boy's feet.

R.C. says, "You kids, get out of here ... "

"No," says Thom McAn. "That's the other thing we came here to tell you. They were created by Dr. Power with the same technology he used to create his bulletproof men. That word they're trying to say ... his name for them ... it's Antaeus. They're only powerful when they're in contact with the ground ... that's how we were able to defeat the first one."

Bazooka nods, "We can do this, Captain."

Captain Tootsie looks at the other men in the room, unable to keep the stress from his features. "Make it so."

In the dim light, as dawn began to break over the New Jersey woods, six young men charge into battle against a foe from legend.

Volto, Bazooka, and Thom McAn run interference, using powered flight or magnetic repulsion to send the monsters into the air. Captain Tootsie, 'U.S.' Royal, and R.C. move in quickly, taking advantage of their foes' weakened states. Volto additionally encases stray monsters in golden bubbles when his teammates are in the clear.

R.C.'s baseball bat is slick with ichorous blood. "We're shaking things up ... send down another one, Bazooka!"

Bazooka sweeps down, but success makes him careless and one of the creatures grabs him by the face, thumb sinking into the boy's eye socket. The boy screams, shrill and horrified.

Captain Tootsie swallows another chocolaty candy and grabs hold of the monster's hand, all his strength focused on prying open the vicious grip. Finally, he succeeds, and Thom McAn rockets the monster into the sky. Volto left hand repels it higher and higher, until finally it plummets into the distance.

Bazooka sobs out, "I can't see!"

Captain Tootsie cradles Bazooka in his arms. "Thom," he says as the other boy returns, "Get him to a hospital. Volto will help us mop up the rest."

Later, the All-Star Legion stand amidst an army of hideous bodies, translucent yellowish skin gleaming as the sun burns off the morning fog. 'U.S.' Royal sinks to his knees. "Captain? Captain, what next?"

Captain Tootsie looks around him at the carnage. "I don't know."

**TO BE CONTINUED ... **


	8. The Glass Key

The All-Star Legion of America in "The Glass Key"  
By Mikel Midnight (suggested by a plot from Dashiell Hammett)

Norman Westberg walks through the Washington streets, breathing in the crisp morning air. He smiles to himself, thinking this is perfect morning weather: just a little cold to wake one up and justify the formality of the work jacket, without being so cold as to make one shiver. Still, the morning cup of hot coffee his office girl would have waiting for him, would have an extra fillip of pleasure.

As he comes to within a block of his office, he passes by a vagrant, seated on the sidewalk. His hair is dyed a hideous shade of red, and between his legs is an upturned baseball cap, with what appears to be a half-dollar in small change scattered within it.

A small tzedakah, he thinks to himself, reaching inside his trouser pocket and pulling out a pair of quarters. "Here you go, my friend," he says, as he drops the coins into the cap.

He resumes his walk, peripheral vision barely seeing the shadow which comes from behind him before a baseball bat strikes him on the back of the skull.

Norman Westberg awakens to a dizzying pain in his skull. He tries to move, only to find himself bound to a chair. Someone presses a cup to his lips, and he sips the tepid water as his eyes adjust to their surroundings.

He wrinkles his nose as he sees he is in a basement, illuminated only by a series of small windows at streetside. Assembled before him are an odd collection of men. Three are unshaven, with garishly dyed hair, and haunted expressions on their faces. One is immaculately clean shaven and, unlike the others, apparently unemotionally scarred, though a wool cap is pulled over his head, covering the tops of his ears. The fifth is a boy, barely into his teens, wearing an oversize sweater which he has pulled up over the lower half of his face to conceal his features.

His eyes focus on the largest of the men, and his eyes widen in shock as he recognises the now haggard features. "My god ... you're Captain Tootsie ... "

"You're Norman Westberg," the man says, "Leonidas Doucas' personal assistant. You're going to tell us how to take him down."

"I'm not telling you anything," Westberg says.

Captain Tootsie nods, "I thought as much." He turns his head, "Royal?"

The man walks over to a pile of rags, and takes out a tattered sheet, which he begins to tear into strips. He rolls one into a ball, knots a second one around it, and walks towards Westberg bearing the makeshift gag. Westberg's eyes widen, realising they fully intend to torture him. "Don't ... "

'U.S.' Royal pauses, hands still twisting the sheet into a cord.

Westberg looks down. "Archives are in a fortified house, suburbs of Washington."

"How do we get in?"

Westberg chews his lower lip, and looks up again to see the implacable faces before him. He sighs. "You need a special key ... it's in my jacket pocket ... can't be copied."

'U.S.' Royal raises an eyebrow. "Can't be copied?" He reaches into Westberg's pocket and removes a small case, which he opens to reveal a translucent bauble. He carefully removes it, holding it up the light. "A glass key?"

Westberg nods. "It was designed by Dr. Narsty. I don't really know how it works, but apparently when you insert it into the keyhole and turn, light shines through it, or something, and opens the door and turns off the burglar alarm ... "

Volto raises an eyebrow. "An optical scanner ... fascinating. I didn't realise you Terrans had advanced to that level of technology."

Captain Tootsie says, "Thanks for your cooperation. We're going to go take a look. Mortimer here," he pats the disguised Thom McAn on the shoulder, "is going to keep an eye on you in our absence. If everything is as you say, you won't get hurt." He pauses. "Though you might want to consider another line of work."

R.C. glances out the window. "Captain, we gotta clear out ... Doucas' men are looking for us, you know that."

Westberg turns his head. The young man's expression is paranoid, almost crazed. There is a brief discussion amongst the other Legionnaires, and they file out, eyes alert on their exit.

'Mortimer' jumps down off the crate he is sitting on, and walks over to Westberg. "So," he says, "you know any games?"

Later, a nondescript automobile pulls up to the luxurious house, constructed in the recently fashionable Spanish style. The quartet steps out, and gather at the front gate. An armed guard looks up from the newspaper he is reading in his booth, and raises an eyebrow. "Can I help you guys?" he asks warily, taking in their disheveled appearance.

'U.S.' Royal says, "Yeah ... by taking a nap." He punctuates his final words by slamming the man against the back wall of the booth, knocking him out. Leaning down, he hoists him over his shoulder. "We'll have to tie him up inside, I guess."

Captain Tootsie shrugs, "What's one more?" and the team proceeds to the front door.

Volto removes the glass key carefully from its case, and inserts it into the front door, turning it to the left. There is an electronic hum, followed by a barely audible beep, and the door clicks open. "Presuming Westberg told us the truth," he says, "we have access."

They proceed into the house, which appears empty. "Tie him up," Captain Tootsie says of the guard as 'U.S.' Royal dumps him on the floor by the door. "We're going to search for the archive room, but everyone keep on their toes."

Captain Tootsie tries door after door, and eventually finds his way into what appears to be a reading room. He walks around the library, and thinks to himself for a moment. Finally he scans the titles of the various books. He pulls out a few, skims through them, and returns them to the shelf. His fingers trail across _The Gent from Frisco_, by Samuel Dashiell and Mary Jane Hammett, and when he withdraws it from the shelf he hears the creak of gears, and a section of the ceiling-level rotates out as hidden door opens. He grins to himself, and passes through the doorway, switching on the light to reveal a small, neatly arranged room, full of metal filing cabinets.

The files are arranged alphabetically, and he quickly moves through the room and sorts through them, pulling out files marked Rushton, Jarboe, Haldorn, or Dolliard.

As he kneels down to rifle through the drawer including Dolliard's name, he comes across a file marked 'Elfinstone.' He recalls the governor who'd resigned his position after a series of scandals, and narrows eyes as he flips through it. "Hootin' zoots," he says to himself, "Doucas was behind that as well?" He reads on, fascinated, and his peripheral vision barely catches a flash of white movement behind him.

He moves more by instinct than deliberation, and throws up an arm to deflect a kick. He attempts to sweep his arm out to catch his opponent and throw them off balance, but they prove too quick and back away. He leaps to his feet just as the room lights are switched off.

While his eyes adjust to the darkness, he remains still, listening for movement, when suddenly a wire cord wraps around his throat. His hands reach up and claw at his neck helplessly, and he kicks backwards, hearing a grunt as his foot connects with flesh. The bind around his throat relaxes enough for him to whirl around and strike out at his opponent with his right fist, and then he finally backs up towards the light switch, illuminating the room and his mysterious foe.

The young woman, beautiful as an Egyptian princess, is clad in a gleaming white pantsuit. She wipes away a trail of blood from her lip. "I didn't know you liked it rough, Thomas."

"Tamar? What are you doing here?"

"I live here," she snorts. "You, however, don't. Given your current reputation as a sneak thief, along with that of the rest of your team, I'm not surprised to see you here, continuing your persecution of my father."

His deep-set copper eyes widen, and he finds himself still capable of astonishment. After a moment, he simply shakes his head. "I'm going to gather the All-Star Legion and head out. We have the information we need."

She grins, "It's not that simple, I'm afraid. You turned out tougher than the rest of them. They're currently being watched over by the guard whom my father rescued after you assaulted him."

He sighs. "It's to be quid pro quo then, is that what you're asking for?"

"I think it's time for you and my father to air your grievances."

He prepares to follow her out of the room. "Lead on, then."

She guides him to a study, where in a large red chair he sees a man whose ball-round face suggests an Egyptian drawing.

"Good-afternoon, Captain."

**TO BE CONCLUDED ... **


	9. Red Harvest

The All-Star Legion of America in "Red Harvest"  
By Mikel Midnight (suggested by a plot from Dashiell Hammett)

"Leonidas Doucas." Captain Tootsie's voice is flat and toneless. "We meet again."

"Enough-with-the-clichés, Captain," Leonidas Doucas parries. "The-All-Star-Legion-of-America-has-been-a-thorn-in-my-side-for-almost-a-year. I-weary-of-this-endless-dueling."

"That's what you call this? Dueling? Where are the rest of my team?"

"Captain, you-wound-me. Tamar-would-never-do-anything-to-harm-your-associates, she-merely-sought-to-protect-our-household. She-subdued-them-quite-effectively-but-I-can-assure-you-they-are-fine, and-will-be-released-as-soon-as-we-are-concluded-here."

"I know what your promises are worth."

"I-have-never-made-you-any-promises." He leans back in his chair, regarding Captain Tootsie through half-lidded eyes. "My-word-is-truth-itself."

"I looked through those files for quite some time, before ... Miss Wonderly ... interrupted me. You've been blackmailing public figures for fifteen years."

"Blackmail-is ... such-an-uncouth-word. I-am-a-newspaper-man, Captain. I-buy-and-sell-information. My-clients-would-agree, I-am-sure, that-were-I-to-uncover-information-about them-which-would-be-in-the-public-interest-to-reveal, it-is-only-right-to-give-them-the-opportunity-to-rebut-an-allegation-first. Some-of-them-choose-not-to-rebut, choosing-instead-to-reimburse-me-for-the-monetary-loss-I-incur-by-withholding-a-saleable-story."

"Very noble of you."

"Thank-you-for-recognising-my-motivations-for-what-they-are. In-addition, my-actions-serve-to-maintain-the-stability-of-the-governing-authority. Some-of-this-information-would-be-quite-disruptive-to-the-status-quo-of-a-civil-society, as-you-might-imagine."

"You told me once you were after power. Why this convoluted route? Surely with all your money and influence, you could run for office yourself."

"Tamar-has-told-you-of-our-family-background. Since, being-of-the-Hebraic-persuasion, I-may-not-be-President, I-decided-to-be-the-power-behind-the-throne ... to-be-secret-emperor-of-America."

Captain Tootsie shakes his head. "The United States isn't like that."

"Do-not-be-naive, Captain. There-is-no-Benjamin-D'israeli-in-American-history. It-will-be-generations-before-a-woman-or-a-Negro-could-even-be-considered-a-viable-Presidential-candidate. The-opportunities-for-a-non-Christian-are-negligible."

"And you're now preparing to take the country? That's what all this is about, isn't it? Supporting opposing candidates, pitting them against one another?

"I-have-jockeyed-Senator-Jarboe-into position-where-he-will-be-nominated-for-president-by-one-party, and-Rushton-by-the-other. I-have-information-on-Rushton-to-spring-during-the-campaign, which-will-invariably-lead-to-his-defeat. Jarboe-is-honest, but-vulnerable. His-vice-president-will-be-a man-named-Haldorn, who-is-both-vulnerable-and-weak. The-plan-is-to-force-Jarboe-to-resign, making-the-tool-Haldorn-president."

"And Dolliard knew about Haldorn ... he was planning to make the information public, wasn't he? So you uncovered material in his wife's background which would have led to her being deported or arrested ... "

"I-had-no-way-of-knowing-that-Dolliard-would-invoke-your-aid, of-course. That-was-most-unfortunate. It-was-an-error-on-my-part, as-well, to-have-been-unaware-that-your-friend-'U.S.'-Royal-had-a-history-with-Helene-Dolliard."

"But Dolliard did ... invoke our aid ... as you put it. You don't really believe we'll let you get away with this. Word will get out ... "

"Twice-I-have-laid-similar-plans, each-time-defeated." He shrugs, "As-you-can-see, I-am-a-modest-man-and-not-above-admitting-to-my-faults. If-I-fail-this-time, I-will-try-again, knowing-the-laws-of-averages-will-give-me-victory-and-power-sooner-or-later, and-then-I-will-have-the-country."

"My country isn't here to be bought and sold."

"Your-country? This-is-a-nation-of-immigrants, Captain. You-have-no-more-claim-to-it-than-I-do."

"I don't ... " Captain Tootsie's words are interrupted by the sound of gunshots. "Hootin' zoots!" He rises to his feet, "You promised me ... "

"Captain, Captain," Leonidas Doucas speaks quickly as he rises to his feet. "I-assure-you, I-had-no-plan-to-harm-your-associates. If-you-will-accompany-me-I-am-sure-any-misunderstandings-will-be ... "

The door to the study opens, and Old Nick Talbert steps in, revolver brandished in his hands. "There is no misunderstanding," he says. "I think we've all heard enough."

"You-have-heard-nothing," Leonidas Doucas scoffs.

Old Nick shakes his head. "I had 'U.S.' Royal plant listening devices in your house. That was his real intention here. And this is mine." He fires, once and then once again, at the man who would have been the Secret Emperor.

"Hootin' zoots," Captain Tootsie says softly, "the All-Star Legion aren't killers, Nick."

"No, you're not, which is why I ... ack." His words are silenced as a wire cord is drawn around his throat. Captain Tootsie jumps in to intercept Tamar Doucas, her white pantsuit stained red at the shoulder, but Old Nick's trachea is crushed in the moment before he reaches her. She howls like a wild animal, wriggling free of his grip and tearing at Old Nick with her nails as he collapses onto the floor.

"It's over, Tamar." He pulls her off the body, "It's all over now."

Her hands fly up to her face like birds fluttering to the sky, and the sounds of her cries fill the air.

**END.**


	10. Annotations

ANNOTATIONS

CHAPTER ONE:  
The name "Talbert" comes from Hammett's outline. It's a little unclear, but it may be an alternate name for Dolliard. It's Talbert who commits suicide in the original.

"Baltimore's Continental Options Bank" was named for Hammett's character, the Continental Op.

Peter Collinson is an occasional pen-name of Hammett's.

Anthony Travers is the Joel Cairo analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_; his physical description however is derived from that of Bruno Gungen, a very similar character from the story "The Main Death."

"AEAEA" is the title of an unpublished Hammett short story, described as "a variant of the Frankenstein idea." The physical description of the character is from Mary Shelley's description of Frankenstein's monster.

Miss Wonderly was the name initially used by Brigid O'Shaughnessy in _The Maltese Falcon_, and has always suggested a Wonder Womanesque heroine to me. Her first line of dialog when Sam Spade asks what she wants, is "Could you--? I thought--I--that is--"

CHAPTER TWO:  
Thomas Stone is the real name of more than one alternate Tom Strong counterpart, and I thought the character's similarities were obvious.

Daghull Street is derived from Daghull Hammett, an occasional pen-name of Hammett's.

Enid Travers is derived from Enid Gungen, from "The Main Death."

The name of the original villain for "The Secret Emperor" was Sheth Gutman; however I felt this too similar to Kasper Gutman. The name Leonidas Doucas is derived from a very similar character from the story "Ruffian's Wife."

CHAPTER 3:  
Sergeant Roy Dunhill is the Detective Tom Polhaus analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_.

Lieutenant Pollock is the Lt. Dundy analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_.

The names Haldorn, Jarboe, and Rushton are all from Hammett's original outline. Jarboe is also the appellation used by a member of the alternative music group, The Swans. Michael Gira is a member of that group.

The idea that Volto may be a robot was suggested by Geoffrey Tolle.

CHAPTER FOUR:  
It would be fairly obvious, following DC villain logic, for a group of criminals called the Swans (they are modeled after the Wonder Woman foe, Silver Swan) would attempt to steal the Maltese Falcon, but I felt it was just too cute. The analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_ is an 8th century ram's horn crammed with jewels, which I named the Maltese Shofar.

Sigla Syzik's name is derived from Algis Kizys, a member of the alternative music group, The Swans.

Ted Shane is the Sam Spade analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_.

Valerie Purvis is the Brigid O'Shaughnessy analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_.

Barabas Inc. is named for Madame Barabas, the Kasper Gutman analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_.

Miss Murgatroyd is the Effie Perrine analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_.

Kenneth is the Wilmer analog from the film _Satan Met A Lady_.

Leonidas Doucas' physical description is from "Ruffian's Wife," combined with Hammett's specifications for Sheth Gutman.

CHAPTER FIVE:  
Astrid and Mr. Ames are the Miles and Iva Archer analogs from the film _Satan Met A Lady_.

_Feel Good Now_ is the title of an album by The Swans.

Ted Shane's physical description is based on the famous one of Sam Spade from _The Maltese Falcon_.

CHAPTER SIX:  
Some of the prose for the ASLA's noirish battle against the police is borrowed from fellow Faux DC scribe Jonah Rite.

It's one of the secret glories of research that mythology frequently produces results which fits a story better than an author could possibly have imagined, as if it had all been planned in advance; the name Antaeus, which neatly ties together the Aeaea-quothing monsters with Dr. Power's bulletproof men, is just such a result.

Bazooka's injury, if this isn't obvious, sets him up to be the later (eyepatched, nonpowered) character Bazooka Joe.

CHAPTER SEVEN:  
Norman Westberg is a member of the alternative music group, The Swans.

Thom McAn's disguise, if this isn't obvious, sets him up to be the later character Mort, from the Bazooka Joe strip.

_The Glass Key_ is a novel by Hammett, which shares some basic plot elements with "The Secret Emperor."

"The Gent from Frisco" was John Houston's working title in early script drafts for his filmed version of _The Maltese Falcon_.

Samuel Dashiell and Mary Jane Hammett were occasional pen-names of Hammett's.

Elfinstone was the name of the Sam Spade-ish protagonist of "The Secret Emperor."


End file.
